


Caffè Americano

by BeBunny



Category: Empire Records (1995)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeBunny/pseuds/BeBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deb and AJ always find time for coffee whenever AJ makes it back to town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffè Americano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeats/gifts).



> Merry Yuletide Yeats, best of luck for the new year. I'm sorry this is so fluffy!

AJ was a little strung out when he finally reached the tiny cafe. Midwestern weather never did him any favours and it always seemed to be his trips back westwards to see family when it took its boredom out on the world; torrential rain during thanksgiving and now driving snow through New Year. It was enough to actually miss the salt air of the East Coast and its milder winters.

He ordered a coffee with a wry grin at the barista, tugging off his gloves to hand her the warm change from his pocket. Leaning over the counter he scooped up an abandoned newspaper and scooted to a booth in the window where he could watch the snow falling. It wasn’t long before the sharpie was out of his bag and he was lost in doodles on napkins and coffee cup both.

Her voice startled him initially, even though he had been waiting for her. He had to swivel all the way round to see her where she perched behind the partition of the booth. She tossed her messenger bag across the vinyl to land precariously on the seat opposite AJ and slid in after it.  
Deb’s hair was short and choppy, streaked through with red. He preferred it that way, preferred it to the long locks that hid her face, he’d told her that once, earning a bruised arm and a mildly insulting poster inside the window declaring him to be America’s womanising youth. She hadn’t let it grow much since however, and last year he even went as far as to admit he had never really noticed how big her eyes were until the day she’d shaved her head. She’d only ducked her head, grinning. There were few repercussions from that revelation, except a cupcake silently handed to him as she passed. “Dumbass” had been scrawled across the top in blobby icing.

It was easy to sit here with her, watching her swirl a spoon in her forgotten chocolate milkshake as she pretended to bitch about work. Joe was fine, store doing well, Lucas getting a diploma in business management of some kind. His last email had said as much, it was nice to see things moving on. He promised to drop by the store while he was in town, he’d somehow managed to drag three commission pieces for Joe across state by train and two buses, and he wasn’t going to abandon them to his mother’s basement. Idly he’d found himself designing one for Deb at the time, a slack jawed zombie, toxic green skin and sickly backing, the words “Corporate America” Printed and repeated carefully through the yellow splashes of zombie blood. He knew she’d love it.  
They stared gloomily at their respective beverages for a moment, each lost in thoughts of days past and opportunities lost. AJ nodded briefly when the waitress nudged him, asking if he wanted a refill. He couldn’t suppress a smile when Deb ordered another milkshake and a doughnut each. With so few customers braving the winter flurries it wasn’t long before AJ was nursing another shot of caffeine. Deb gestured to him to hand over his doughnut. Ever since he could remember Deb had a think about not being able to choose flavours. She never asked but he watched in fond amusement as she carefully broke each pastry in half, returning one half of each to AJ’s chipped ceramic plate; one maple glaze, one double chocolate sprinkle. Like so many things in this town her choices never changed. This wasn’t like the flaking paint on the town library railings though; AJ took an odd sort of comforting security in these habits. His school was full of changeable, volatile artists. Although Deb’s passionate streak was never to be underestimated he never felt uncertain with her, finding words as easily as making a first brushstroke.

He told her, between mouthfuls of his class trip to Toronto and the falls, about his discovery of digital print and a developing interest in photography, promising to bring his portfolio with him to the store. Of all the people he knew from his life here, Corey and Joe included, it was Deb that appeared to understand his art the most. Never passing judgement, or often, comment. It seemed to AJ her silence spoke louder of her approval than any half assed encouragement or uncomprehending smile.

As Deb spoke about her new apartment and its view over the town, AJ, almost absentmindedly folded newspaper squares into little figures, he set them out in a row between them, turning them to face each other and mirror the two friends in their conversation. Deb scooped one up and held it up to the light, the neon sign in the window, lit against the gathering dark outside reflected indistinct lettering in her eyes. She nodded when AJ asked if she needed to leave, since scooters on the ice were unsafe on dark streets. He paid their tab with the barista and shrugged on his parka, raising his hood as they reached the door together.

Deb clicked her tongue and shot back inside, leaving AJ stamping his feet on the snow-choked street, but it was only a few moments before she returned, handing AJ a brown paper bag, folded over at the top. He walked her to the scooter before looking inside, making plans with her to be at the store when she’d be at work, wanting to check in on Joe, Lucas and see how Warren was getting on. Their goodnights were brief, given the biting wind and Deb’s scarf obscured her face as she blew him a mocking kiss before starting the motor and skidding precariously off homewards.  
AJ watched her ride away, feeling unfulfilled and a little rebellious, knowing the dull conversation he could look forward to as soon as he returned to his parent’s house. No doubt his father would treat him to yet more tales from the hospital ward he’d been staying on during his treatment.  
AJ looked down at the bag in his hands and unfolded the top, inside were two halves of different doughnuts, one maple glaze, one double chocolate sprinkle, tucked in between them was a note scrawled on the back of a stolen or begged order card.

 _“I’m at home tonight - give me half an hour, bring beer. D”_

AJ stared for a moment at the card, memorising the address scrawled underneath it. He considered his options, and took a deep breath. With a brief glance down the street that would lead to his parent’s home he stooped to pick up a fallen glove and trudged off in the other direction. If he started walking now, he estimated, it would take him half an hour to reach Deb’s apartment with enough time to hit a liquor store, and if anyone called his mother asking for him, he hadn’t said where he was going anyway.


End file.
